


starving

by transit (dollyeo)



Series: ABO AU [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Crack, M/M, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 11:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyeo/pseuds/transit
Summary: Help me, Jihoon tells Junhui as he hides inside the biology section.I think Wonwoo’s having a mental breakdown over Soonyoung fingering himself, and I don’t think I can escape with my purity in tact.Yeah, Soonyoung can get pretty loud when he’s really feeling it, is Junhui’s less-than-sympathetic reply.I was roommates with him in freshman year and he couldn’t go an hour without touching himself.It takes a while for him to type the next bit, and Jihoon stares with increasingly dead eyes as the ellipses crop up in the chat box.It did wonders to get him to clean his room and do his laundry, though. He even bleached every surface in the bathroom, though I have no idea why.And you didn’t think of warning Wonwoo when they moved in together this year?Jihoon says. Or tries to. All that comes out is a keysmashedasjfhkjfdshdsjhgk????





	starving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelaziesthufflepuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelaziesthufflepuff/gifts).



Wonwoo’s sleeping on the surface of the table when Jihoon finds him at the library at ten in the evening. That, in itself, isn’t a particularly surprising scene to stumble into during hell week, but it’s the visible absence of his roommate that takes Jihoon aback.

On a normal day, Wonwoo and Soonyoung would be attached at the hip, bickering and roughhousing like two dysfunctional alleycats one minute and cozying up on the sofa like harmless kittens the other, a creepy and codependent relationship if Jihoon’s ever seen one, even if Junhui calls them both cute all the time. (Then again, Junhui thinks _Minghao’s_ cute too and constantly calls Jihoon the same thing whenever he squirms under Junhui’s touch, like he’s begging to be punched. Which Jihoon hasn’t exactly done yet, but that’s neither here nor there.)

(Junhui’s too damn tall and good-looking to be hit. Jihoon is suffering everyday.)

 _The point is_ , Wonwoo’s all alone, on a Friday night, like a _loser_. Pot, meet kettle, but whatever. Jihoon’s free to call it as he sees it, especially when he knows Wonwoo would probably rather be torturing Soonyoung with his bad jokes and constant trolling than being alone ( _outside!_ In a _public space_!) right about now.

Jihoon can kind of sympathize. Sort of.

“Rough night?” He asks, setting down his cup of coffee in front of Wonwoo. Wonwoo lifts his head up, staring up at him so pathetically Jihoon doesn’t even have the heart to kick him even more, but not enough that Jihoon’s particularly tempted to give up his drink any time soon. As far as Jihoon’s concerned, Wonwoo can drag his ass out of the library himself, or just text Soonyoung to swing by with sustenance. Preferably the former, just so Jihoon doesn’t have to hide his gagging behind a book when they start bickering like two grossly besotted puppies. Gross.

“I’ve been here since this morning,” says Wonwoo, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “I can’t feel my limbs anymore."

“You don’t even have classes today,” Jihoon points out, setting his things down and digging his books out of his bag. “Neither does Soonyoung.”

“Exactly,” says Wonwoo, voice loaded with suffering. He rests his head against the table again, the spine of Jihoon’s textbook poking into his cheek, but he looks too exhausted to even register anything past his own internal turmoil – whatever it is. Jihoon’s at least 50% sure it’s only imagined. “He’s been in his room all day.”

“And how is _that_ a bad thing?”

“Let me rephrase,” says Wonwoo, sounding muffled. “ _Soonyoung_ is in _heat_.”

Jihoon nearly chokes on his coffee. Wonwoo doesn’t look unfazed at all, and just stares in front of him with glazed eyes, unseeing. Jihoon can practically _smell_ the faintest hint of arousal on him, and the second-hand embarrassment is so thick and cloying Jihoon just wants to Die.

“Soonyoung’s been in his room,” Wonwoo continues, licking his lips like it’s as dry as the stale air in the library, “ _alone_ , with his right hand, his laptop, and the bottle of lube I _know_ he keeps hidden under his pillows, and the walls in our new apartment are apparently pretty damn thin enough that they’re practically nonexistent.” He raises his head to look at Jihoon in the eye, and if Jihoon didn’t know what a starving man in front of a five-course meal he couldn’t afford looked like, well. Now he knows. “He’s been in there _for hours_.”

“Ah,” says Jihoon, sympathetically. But mostly wishing he could unhear everything right about now. It’s way more than he ever wants to know about Soonyoung and whatever he does in his spare time. “I see.”

“ _Hours_ ,” Wonwoo groans, pressing on even as Jihoon starts sending a desperate text message to _anyone_ to get Wonwoo out of here, and maybe check on Soonyoung to make sure he’s hydrated and fed while he’s got nothing on his mind but dick, presumably. Jihoon wouldn’t know. He doesn’t really understand omegas _at all_. “I thought he was doing yoga or something when he kept making frustrated noises the first hour in, but then it started sounding breathy and high-pitched and then there were just these _squelching_ noises and—”

“I need to pee,” Jihoon announces, shooting up from his seat. If he runs and stumbles across a few chairs and a trolley of books in his desperate attempt to escape Wonwoo’s moment of TMI, no one else can judge him for it other than Wonwoo and the library assistant busy playing Everwing on her phone.

 _Help me_ , Jihoon tells Junhui as he hides inside the biology section. _I think Wonwoo’s having a mental breakdown over Soonyoung fingering himself, and I don’t think I can escape with my purity in tact._

 _Yeah, Soonyoung can get pretty loud when he’s really feeling it_ , is Junhui’s less-than-sympathetic reply. _I was roommates with him in freshman year and he couldn’t go an hour without touching himself._ It takes a while for him to type the next bit, and Jihoon stares with increasingly dead eyes as the ellipses crop up in the chat box. _It did wonders to get him to clean his room and do his laundry, though. He even bleached every surface in the bathroom, though I have no idea why._

 _And you didn’t think of warning Wonwoo when they moved in together this year?_ Jihoon says. Or tries to. All that comes out is a keysmashed _asjfhkjfdshdsjhgk????_

This is exactly why all of their sexual education classes (and the cheesy romcom flicks Jihoon pointedly _did not watch out of choice, shut the fuck up, Kim Mingyu_ ) taught them that unmated alphas and omegas shacking up together is a Bad Idea. First comes lust, then comes an idiot forgetting birth control, and then comes the baby carriage, congrats! Jihoon is seriously concerned for Soonyoung and Wonwoo if Wonwoo’s rut ever decides to sync up with his, because none of them are mentally equipped enough for life outside of their own when they’re still feasting on instant noodles while marathon gaming every other night.

It’s even worse when there are _feelings_ involved, and god only knows Wonwoo is hot and cold at turns but strangely single-minded, focused, _obsessive_ when it counts. Apparently, this extends to oblivious idiots like Soonyoung. Jihoon doesn’t envy Wonwoo at all.

Jihoon doesn’t even have to reformulate a more coherent response, though; Junhui’s already calling his phone, like he just _knows_ Jihoon’s at a point where he wants to throw it away already to keep from having to experience further trauma.

“I hate you,” says Jihoon, by way of greeting when he picks up. “Why do you keep telling me these things? Why do you think I even want to know?” He grits his teeth, and hisses. “More importantly, why do I even tell you _anything_?”

“Information is a powerful tool,” says Junhui, cheerfully, like everything out of his mouth when he overshares doesn’t make Jihoon want to douse his brain in bleach and then maybe set it on fire, thanks. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Junhui has this tendency to just let his mouth loose without enough filters. Minghao assures everyone that it’s infinitely worse in Mandarin, and Jihoon’s made up his mind to steer away from any and all Chinese language electives in the near-future just to give himself some semblance of peace in that respect. At the rate Junhui’s vocabulary is flourishing, though, it’s only a matter of time before the haunted look on Minghao’s face after Junhui says something indecipherable to him would migrate to Jihoon’s own expression in a state of near-permanence, especially when they spend so much time together as it is.

(Fuck. It’s a sign. Jihoon should pack his bags and move to the Western hemisphere if he wants to stay blissfully ignorant and oblivious. Who knows what secrets of Jihoon’s Junhui will eventually spill absent-mindedly? No wonder Minghao can’t ever look him in the eye anymore.)

Jihoon’s mind is too busy spiraling into hell, but not busy enough that he doesn’t catch Junhui’s next words. “Do you want me to send someone over to pick up Wonwoo and take him back to Soonyoung?” Junhui asks, innocuously enough. While normally Jihoon would be all for Wonwoo fucking off to wherever with Soonyoung to do whatever it is they did (or presumably didn’t) do behind closed doors, Jihoon’s pretty sure that it must be pretty serious if Wonwoo’s barricading himself out of his own apartment after (barely) getting sexiled by his roommate, and for good reason.

Jihoon wonders how long Wonwoo’s even going to be crashing other people’s apartments, at this rate. It doesn’t look like Wonwoo’s intending to crawl back home any time soon, not when he’s had hours to. As far as Jihoon knows, omegas aren’t really in a state of sex-crazed starvation all day, and Wonwoo’s virtue isn’t going to be in danger any time soon as long as Soonyoung’s remembered to lock his door.

Or are they?

“No, they aren’t,” Junhui assures him, and Jihoon shuts his mouth. “At least, I’m only basing it off of my experience—” _ha ha HA_ , Jihoon’s brain is fizzling by now, as flustered as how his entire face feels like it’s practically flaming by now, “—but Soonyoung’s pretty repressed, so I’m not too sure.” He makes a sad noise at the back of his throat. “All boys school before uni, you know?”

Clearly Junhui hasn’t seen enough coming-of-age films set in gender-exclusive schools to realize it means the exact opposite of being repressed, but Jihoon’s not going to tell him that. Because then Junhui would just look confused and _ask things_ and one moment they would spiral into Jihoon digging out indie movies and documentaries and the next Junhui would have his hands down Jihoon’s pajama pants and he’d be palming him through a raunchy sex scene and _okay_ , bad thoughts, this is _exactly_ why Wonwoo probably ran the fuck out of his apartment and never looked back.

“Tell Soonyoung Wonwoo and I are staying the night to study,” Jihoon orders him, on the verge of gnashing his teeth. “And bring Lysol and a gallon of water with you. Got it?”

“Aww,” says Junhui, sounding like he’s breaking out into one of his soppy, sugar-sweet smiles that makes Jihoon want to just. Yell. A lot. Or kiss him. Whatever works. He’s under no illusions that he makes a lot of concessions for Junhui. He can already hear the asshats he calls friends making whip noises with their mouths. “What a supportive friend.”

 _It’s called self-preservation_ , Jihoon thinks of snarking back, but he just settles for glowering at an anatomy textbook that looks like it would be heavy enough to bash his skull in. Or at least give him a concussion. _Anything_ , if only to distract him.

“Don’t let Soonyoung hump any pillows, and no videos or pictures, _please_ ,” Jihoon adds. “Unless you want Wonwoo’s mind to explode. Which we _don’t_ , because we’re not Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Right,” says Junhui, somberly. Jihoon is only half-confident in Junhui’s attention span and ability to retain non-boring information, especially ones that start with _don’t_ and _no_. “Though I’m pretty sure those pillows are unsalvageable by now.”

“ _I don’t wanna know_ ,” Jihoon groans. God, it’s not even midnight and he already wants to sit in some shady barbeque place and just plow through so much meat and soju he can’t walk without waddling afterwards. He’s _that_ stressed out. “Let’s get samgyeopsal tonight. I can’t deal with Wonwoo sober.”

“Okay,” says Junhui. “Text me where and I’ll meet you there, I guess.”

“Don’t come over after you see Soonyoung!” Jihoon whisper-yells. “I mean it! Wonwoo’s gonna _smell_ him on you and you’ll be deader than dead!”

“Oh, we were gonna bring Wonwoo with us?” Junhui sighs, and Jihoon swears he can _hear_ the pout even through the line. Ugh. “And here I thought we could have ourselves a nice, uninterrupted date for the first time in months. Don’t you want to see me, Jihoonie?”

“And see you in a casket next? How about no?”

“Love you too,” Junhui coos, blowing a kiss into the phone. Jihoon closes his eyes and prays for patience.

“I have to go,” says Jihoon, through gritted teeth, and hangs up before Junhui – well-meaning, unassuming, _dangerous to his heart_ – says anything else.

When he gets back to Wonwoo, Wonwoo’s scrolling through his phone with his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. _Be cool_ , he thinks, schooling his expression into something akin to his everyday appearance of being bored out of his mind and/or plotting the death of idiots at his own hands. Yes.

“Did you talk to Jun?” Wonwoo asks, tersely. He’s got an eyebrow raised at Jihoon and he keeps fussing at the collar of his shirt restlessly, like it bothers him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” says Jihoon, as calm and disaffected as he can manage, even if he _did_ spend at least ten minutes whining to Junhui earlier.

“I’ve been getting inappropriate texts in the middle of the night,” says Wonwoo, pitch rising, and Jihoon winces. His mind flashes back to approximately 10000 horrifying and embarrassing things Junhui must have told Wonwoo in the interim. _Jihoon talks in his sleep and says cheesy things about me when he does_ , is one. _Jihoon also secretly likes to gossip about everyone even if he pretends he doesn’t really care_ , is another. Lies, all lies. “Honestly, what the fuck?”

He passes over his phone to Jihoon, and Jihoon tries not to let his hands shake. If anything, he could pass it off as over caffeination, even if he hasn’t taken a sip of his (now cold) coffee.

 _How long are your fingers_ , Junhui’s asked Wonwoo in a hastily-made group chat with Soonyoung. _Just asking. For science._

 _????????_ , is all Wonwoo’s contribution to the chat is, right before Junhui’s eye emoji and winky face emoticon.

 _You know what they say about alphas_ , says Junhui. _Right, Soonyoung-ah?_

From the looks of things, Soonyoung hasn’t opened his messages just yet (which: _yikes_ ), but it’s not like Jihoon is counting on Soonyoung to be coherent enough to even go through his phone beyond looking up quick and easy pornos like the secretly kinky fucker he is. (Jihoon knows what his porn history looks like. Eugh.)

The worst part about it is that Junhui thinks he’s probably helping things along, even if it seems like something straight out of Jeonghan’s more hare-brained schemes instead. It doesn’t matter, though— Jihoon is gonna _strangle_ Junhui, mate or not.

“I’m so sorry he’s an idiot,” says Jihoon, full of feeling and commiseration. “If it helps, I’m already making plans for his funeral in my head.”

Wonwoo lets his head hit the desk again, and exhales. “Not if I kill him first,” he mutters, and looks as done with life as Jihoon probably feels.

Jihoon ends up buying him coffee. And then some alcohol, because why the fuck not. He needs it, Wonwoo needs it, and Jihoon’s making Junhui pay for everything. And if Wonwoo ends up nearly biting Junhui’s head off when he meets up with them at a BBQ joint, well. He’s not Junhui’s keeper.

“I _did_ warn you not to come here smelling like Soonyoung climbed you like a tree,” says Jihoon, thumb brushing the wound blooming across the corner of Junhui’s mouth as Wonwoo glares at them from the opposite side of the table.

“ _Alphas_ ,” Junhui sighs, aggrieved, lips curved downward, pouting, and flicks water at Wonwoo like he’s a dog for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> no one judge me, ok. this is all @ hongwen's fault!!!


End file.
